About

This is an oldey (Spring 2013) and a favorite of mine from our #1 favorite pizza place in Rome, Dar Poeta.

Anyone who knows us is aware that pizza is a weekly adventure. When I met Ric in 1984, I thought pizza was a once-in-awhile treat, something eaten at Pizza Hut, for a child’s birthday party, or all-too-often pizza at my house was a frozen one from Totino’s consumed as Sunday night supper. Marrying Ric changed my ways. I don’t always make the bed in the morning, especially if one of the cats is sleeping on it, and now I know that pizza is nature’s most perfect food, meant to be consumed at least weekly.

Moving to Italy added a layer of adventure and charm to our pizza eating. As we eat at least 52 pizzas a year, I thought documenting the journey a worthy endeavor both for us (“Where did we eat last weekend?”) and for those who dream of eating pizza all over Italy.

Now we are back in Oregon (as of November 2016) and still eating pizza. Our Italian adventure has made us rather critical of most American pizzas, but we are finding some gems. No Pizza Hut for us! We’re looking for excellent pies executed with care and creativity.

Oh my goodness! When we visited Italy last year, we stopped in a place across the river in Florence and had the best pizza we have ever put in our mouths. It was only our second day in Italy. We spent the next three weeks “chasing the pizza” – fruitlessly trying to find something that compared to that very first tastebud orgasm. We still talk about that pizza a year later.